


Selfish Acts

by plainapple



Category: Psych
Genre: Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, M/M, Masturbation, Punishment, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-27
Updated: 2011-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plainapple/pseuds/plainapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lassiter comes home to find Shawn indulging himself.  He does not approve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selfish Acts

Lassiter stood in the doorway gripping the frame so hard his knuckles turned white. Shawn was sitting in the living room with his back to Lassiter, his cock out, with some kind of magazine in his hand. Between the slamming of the car door, the jangle of the keys in the lock, and the deep, audible breaths he was taking now, Lassiter knew there was no way Shawn had missed that he’d come home. That Shawn was pretending he thought he was alone, that he was stroking himself when he must have known Lassiter was watching could only mean one thing – Shawn was asking for it. Well hell if Lassiter wasn’t going to give it to him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” said Lassiter. It wasn’t a question, not really. They both knew what was going on.

Shawn faked a suprised jump and shoved whatever he’d been looking at between the cushions on the couch. He half fumbled with his fly but gave up as Lassiter strode towards him.

“Lassie!” Shawn exclaimed, full of fake exuberance, “You’re home early! That’s great. How was your day? I didn’t sense any major cases but you know I’ve been known to be wrong. How was Jules? Did you ask her about dinner on Sunday? I know you don’t believe me but I really do make a mean meatloaf and…”

“Shut up,” snapped Lassiter.

Shawn pressed his lips together and looked up at Lassiter with wide, ‘innocent’ eyes. Lassiter had to stop himself from smiling at Shawn’s painfully transparent act.

“Give it to me,” said Lassiter.

“Uh, give you what Lassie?”

“Give.” Lassiter held out his hand, his eyebrow arched expectantly. Shawn reluctantly pulled the glossy paper out of the couch and handed it over. Lassiter’s jaw jut forward and his lip curled into an angry sneer when he saw what it was. The 2010 SBFD Fireman Calendar. Oh, Shawn was fucking in for it alright.

“Clothes off, on your knees,” instructed Lassiter.

“Lassie, I…”

Lassiter dropped the calendar onto the couch and gripped Shawn’s hair with both hands, yanking his head until he was looking up at Lassiter, his neck craned back as far as it would go. Lassiter glared down at him, staring him straight in the eye.

“Spencer, at the moment it's a very, very bad idea not to do exactly what I tell you. Clothes off. Knees. Now, or believe me you will regret it.”

Shawn swallowed and stayed quiet. Lassiter held his head like that for a moment, quietly studying the square jaw, the full lips, the long nose, the green eyes, looking for any signs of defiance. When he finally let go Shawn was on his feet immediately, pulling his shirt over his head and kicking off his shoes.

Lassiter gave Shawn space, leaning one arm on the fireplace mantle while he watched Shawn strip. Shawn stepped out of his jeans and boxers and folded them both neatly, the way Lassiter liked, draping them over a chair before kneeling in front of Lassiter, his knees wide apart, his head down, his hands behind his back.

He stayed like that while Lassiter took off his jacket and carefully placed his piece, his badge, his phone, and his cuffs in a neat line on the coffee table. He undressed with efficiency, laying his clothes over Shawn’s on the chair. When he’d finished he picked the calendar up again and flipped through the pages.

“Fucking meatheads,” muttered Lassiter. “This is what you want, hmm, Shawn? Some overbuilt hose jockey with peas for brains?”

“No, Lassie I…”

“No talking!” Lassiter turned another page, “This is what you want. This is what you think it’s worth spending your come on. Covering the pages of a cheap calendar with spunk like some desperate teenager. Wasting it on paper when you knew I’d be home in minutes. What if I wanted you, Shawn? Did you even consider that? You’re good boy, but even you need time to recover. What were you planning on telling me when you couldn’t get it up?”

Shawn shifted uncomfortably, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide.

“I don’t think you were thinking, were you?” Lassiter asked, “I don’t think you thought about me at all. Too wrapped up in Mr. May, weren’t you, you selfish little slut?”

Shawn made a small noise, something like a whimper. He was hard again, Lassiter noticed, or maybe he’d never lost his erection. It pissed Lassiter off to think that part of Shawn’s arousal might not be for him.

“Slut,” repeated Lassiter, drawing out the ‘s’ into a sharp hiss.

He dropped the calendar into the fireplace and dug a match out of the box on the mantle,lit it and threw it onto Mr. October’s face. The glossy cardstock only barely caught fire; a slow singe spread across the surface then fizzled out before it reached the edge. A fireproof fireman’s calendar. Of course. No matter, it was the symbolism that counted. Lassiter would find a way to destroy it completely later.

“Now,” said Lassiter, turning back to Shawn. “Since you can’t control your hands on your own…” He picked his cuffs up off the table and moved behind Shawn, pushing him onto his stomach. Shawn didn’t resist as he snapped them on. Lassiter double checked to make sure they weren’t too tight before he stood again, admiring the sight of Shawn’s hands resting just above his ass. He stroked himself, teasing Shawn with the sound until Shawn wiggled his hips against the floor. Lassiter gripped Shawn by the shoulders, pulling him up again before Shawn could give himself any relief.

“None of that,” said Lassiter, and then moved to stand in front of Shawn, holding his cock inches from his face. “You want this?” he asked. Shawn nodded in quiet response.

“Tough shit,” said Lassiter. “You think I’m going to give you my cock when you were so ready to keep yours to yourself?” Lassiter slapped his erection against Shawn’s cheek, carefully avoiding his mouth, “No. You don’t get any of this tonight. Still, it’d be a shame not to put you to use, wouldn’t it?”

Shawn’s cheeks were flushed. His eyes moved back and forth across the floor, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to guess what Lassiter was getting at. Lassiter bent over and spoke, low and soft into Shawn’s ear. “I’m going to get myself off Spencer,” he said, “And while I do, you’re going to eat my ass.”

The sharp, shaky gasp from Shawn was all the confirmation of consent Lassiter needed. Shawn had hinted at wanting to do it before, but Lassiter had never let him. It was too much, too deviant. Despite the crops in the closet and the red ball gag in his sock drawer, Lassiter still liked to think of himself as a relatively normal man. It was Shawn who’d taken him places he’d never considered before, places he’d thought were only for criminals and the mentally disturbed, patiently instructing Lassiter, letting things develop at his pace. The part of Lassiter that was bothered by how much he enjoyed it was soon quieted by how much Shawn enjoyed it too. After a few months Lassiter had decided there were only a few things he wouldn’t do to get Shawn off. After a year he’d decided there was nothing.

Lassiter turned his back to Shawn and carefully stepped positioned himself so that he felt Shawn’s nose against his ass cheek. Shawn didn’t move. Lassiter let him stay like that for a moment, let Shawn feel the anticipation while Lassiter felt Shawn's egar breaths against his skin.

“Alright,” said Lassiter. “Get started.”

Shawn wasted no time. He licked across Lassiter’s ass in wide swaths, stopping only to plant kisses and suckle the full flesh into his mouth. Lassiter gave a small growl as Shawn ran his tongue up his crack and widened his stance, giving Shawn better access. When he first felt the wet tip graze across his asshole he swore in surprise at the bolt of heat the sensation sent through him. Shawn swirled his tongue lightly, wetting the opening, kissing around the rim.

“Filthy little whore,” Lassiter muttered before licking his palm and taking his cock into his hand. He reached out gripped the mantle, steadying himself.

Shawn pressed his tongue flat, wiggling it back and forth. Lassiter moaned unabashedly. Why hadn’t he wanted to do this again? He could feel the nerves around his rim shooting sensation straight to his cock. He stroked himself faster, making deep guttural noises. He could feel the tip of Shawn’s nose rubbing up and down against his crease as Shawn licked him. That Shawn was there, in that way, in the most intimate part of him… Lassiter moaned again.

“That’s it. Lick it. Eat me, boy. Come on. More.”

When Shawn pressed the tip of his tongue in Lassiter thought he might come on the spot. The hot, wet little muscle sliding in and out of him wasn’t like anything he’d felt before. So much better than a finger. Soft, supple, making the lewdest little slurping noises as Shawn tried to bury it deeper.

“Yes, Shawn! Fuck it! Fuck... oh god, you god dammed tramp. Fucking hell, Shawn, yes!”

Lassiter didn’t try to hold back his orgasm, he just jerked himself rapidly until he was shooting over his hand and down onto the floor. He called Shawn’s name as he did. He always called Shawn’s name.

Shawn kept licking him as Lassiter leaned against the mantle taking deep breaths, only stopping when Lassiter stepped away. He looked up at Lassiter, his eyes seeking out approval. Lassiter looked back at him, his expression firm.

“Come here,” Lassiter said, taking Shawn again by the shoulders and, pulling him forward. He leaned Shawn down until his face hovered just above Lassiter’s come, still wet on the hardwood. “Look at that, Shawn. You see that? That’s what you could have had if you’d been good. That’s what wasted come looks like. You see now? You understand? We don’t waste come in this house. You don’t try to get off without me again, not without asking. We clear, Shawn? Are we?”

Shawn took a deep breath. Lassiter had been expecting a litany of words of agreement, followed by a begging for release. He hadn’t expected Shawn to flick his tongue out, licking up the cooling fluid from the floor.

Lassiter’s eyes widened in surprise, “Oh, fuck.”

Encouraged, Shawn stuck his tongue out further, raking it across the wood grain and lapping up another long trail of come.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Lassiter growled, “Oh you good, good boy.”

Lassiter supported Shawn as he scooted forward, licking as he went, leaving a wide, wet patch of spit behind him. He watched Shawn's display with pride and fascination. No matter how prepared he thought he was, Shawn would always surprise him. To think there was a time when Lassiter though Shawn was little more than an arrogant annoyance. He'd learned soon enough, much to his displeasure at the time, that Shawn's pride was fully warranted. He was brilliant, handsome, funny, charismatic, and despite outward appearances, he was an essentially good man. The kind of man that Lassiter had always considered out of his league. Lassiter would never really understand why Shawn let himself be degraded like this, let himself be torn off the pedestal he belonged on and brought down to Lassiter's level, but thank god, thank god he did. There was no way Lassiter could have stood wanting Shawn as much as he did without Shawn wanting him back. Lusting for him. Loving him, maybe. Shawn had never said it, but hell if he hadn't proved it. Shawn did everything Lassiter asked of him, and then did more. He deserved all the praise in the world for it, all the tenderness, all the gratitude - but that wasn't what he needed. Lassiter felt a familiar steely resolve. He'd give Shawn what he needed, give him everything he needed, and hope to god it made Shawn need him.

“That’s right, Shawn. Eat it up. Every drop. Oh god, you little cumslut. Come sucking whore. Eating it off the floor like a fucking dog. Is that what you are? My dog? My little bitch?”

Shawn only doubled his efforts in response, licking the floor until it shone. Even after every drop Lassiter had spilled was gone, he kept licking. Lassiter watched until his arms were sore from the effort of keeping Shawn upright.

“That’s enough,” muttered Lassiter.

Shawn rested his forehead on the floor and took slow, quiet breaths. Lassiter drank in the sight of him. Shawn, naked, cuffed, knees and forehead on the floor, his ass in the air, his cock hard and hanging free underneath him – so pretty. So vulnerable. Lassiter wanted to hurt him. Spank him, twist his nipples and squeeze his balls until he begged for forgiveness – but Shawn had taken enough for one night.

Lassiter lifted him up so he was kneeling again and crouched behind him, his mouth close to Shawn’s ear.

“Who’s are you Shawn?” Lassiter asked.

Shawn answered automatically,“Yours.”

Lassiter snaked an arm around Shawn and grazed his finger tips along the underside of Shawn’s cock, “And who’s is this?”  
“Yours. God Lassie, yours.”

“That’s right.” Lassiter murmured, “You going to forget again?”

Shawn shook his head.

“Good,” said Lassiter. “Because as long as it’s mine, I’ll take care of it. I take good care of my things, don’t I Spencer?”

He bit Shawn lightly on the earlobe and wrapped his fist around the base of Shawn’s cock. Shawn choked back his pleasure.

“It’s okay, Shawn.” Lassiter said as he started to stroke him, “Moan for me. I want to hear you.”

Shawn obliged, arching his back, pushing his shoulders against Lassiter’s chest and thrusting forward into his hand. Lassiter worked with a calm and practiced hand, masturbating Shawn until he could tell he was close.

“You want to come?” Lassiter asked, “You want to come for me?”

“Please…” Shawn answered, “Yes Lassie please. Please. I’ll be good. Promise. Be good.”

“I know you will.”

“Please…”

“Come, Shawn.”

Shawn groaned deeply and threw his head back onto Lassiter’s shoulder. A few more strokes and Shawn was over the edge, coming onto the floor in steady spurts. Lassiter held him while he came down, recovering his breath and trembling. When he thought Shawn could keep himself upright he released him and went to fish the keys to his cuffs out of his jacket’s pocket. He rubbed the red marks they’d left on Shawn’s wrists affectionately as he freed each hand.

Shawn stretched his arms out with a satisfied ‘Mmmm’. Lassiter stood and took Shawn’s hand in his, helping him to his feet. Shawn eyed the gleaming spot on the floor with a little trepidation.

“I don’t need to clean that up too, do I?”

Lassiter chuckled, “No, honey, I’ll take care of it.”

Shawn grinned and waggled his eyebrows, “Really?”

“With a rag.” Lassiter grumbled, swatting Shawn on the ass, “Now go gargle some Listerine and come watch TV. It’s Law and Order night.”

“Kay.” Shawn was halfway out of the room when he turned to Lassiter, “You know Lassie, I’m not sure I totally learned my lesson.”

Lassiter smirked and crossed his arms, tilting his head as he stared at Shawn.

“Mmmm…” said Lassiter, “I honestly hope you never do.”


End file.
